Page 54 of Bounty
Lennon’s throat worked. He stared at Cash, turned to me, then looked at Cash again. “My…are you…mywhat?” he finally spluttered, his eyes bulging.
Saw and Ziggy sniggered. I couldn’t deny how Lenny’s shock and panic amused me. Cash was such a messy motherfucker.
“Only a matter of time before Slice puts a ring on it.” Cash flicked his cigarette away. “Might as well get used to it.”
“Over my dead body,” Lennon spat. He looked at me again, his eyes burning with dislike and disgust.
“Your demise can happily be arranged,” Cash said calmly. “But I think Daria would be a little broken up over your death.”
“You’re joking,” Lennon said, although he’d lost some of his contempt. “All the biker killers in Daria’s books are so named. Savage. Butcher. Executioner. Knife. Sword. Poison. Garrot. Prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” Drifter and Saw echoed in outrage.
“We have Mortician,” Cash supplied.
Lennon frowned. “You’ve hired a funeral home to seek revenge on your behalf?”
“Nope. Mort’s our enforcer. Although we do have a funeral home. Makes things easier. Especially disposal. Little evidence means less questions.”
“You don’t look like the way Daria describes her killers,” Lennon said. He nodded to Cash’s cut. “You don’t even have a killer’s name. Ghost is generic.”
“Ghost was earned. I kill enemies without ever being seen. Did it for my country and I do it for my club. As for what Daria writes, it’s fiction and her names are a fucking travesty. Not even actual prisoners want to be calledPrisoner.”
Lennon frowned.
“But,” Cash growled, “this situation isn’t a made-up drama. Your daughter is in real danger with real bad men. Get your fucking head out of your cockhole, man the fuck up, and support your wife.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Lennon drew himself up. “In case you didn’t realize that.”
“You’re here because you didn’t have a fucking choice, asshole,” Cash said.
Enjoying myself, I flicked my smoke away and grinned.
“Supporting your wife means cooperating and shutting the fuck up unless I need something from you,” Cash continued. “It definitely doesn’t mean calling in the fucking badges. Because, motherfucker, if you do, that’ll risk my president’s freedom, too. And that means he’d be taken away from his wife, whom he worships. Fuck with her, you fuck with him, and that’s the quickest fucking way to get yourself killed. So I’ll save him the goddamn headache—he’s also my common law brother-in-law—and kill you myself.”
Swallowing, Lennon looked at me with expectation. Did he really expect me to step in after he’d just shit all over me? I shrugged.
“No cops,” Lennon said finally. “Where’s Daria?”
Cash looked at me, punting the decision to allow Lennon in the club in my court. The motherfucker had been running the fucking show for hours. But I appreciated the gesture.
“She’s inside,” I said. “Prissy brought her here a couple of hours ago when she brought us coffee and donuts.” I stepped aside so he could pass.
“That is what Sloane would call a certified asshole,” Cash chortled once Lennon disappeared inside.
Ziggy and Saw snickered.
“How is our rock star?” Saw asked. “My old lady still sucks me off in appreciation of you introducing her to the members of Phoenix Rising.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, you were telling the truth?”
“Unfortunately,” Cash grumbled.
“Fuck off, Cash,” Ziggy said. “You know you like that motherfucker.”
Cash grinned. I understood why Lennon found it hard to believe he was a killer. Cash was handsome and clean-cut, even in his colors. He was surly but rather charming.
“I admit to nothing, fuckhead,” he said. He turned to me. “By the way, these are my brothers. Saw and Ziggy. Both from our Corpus Christi chapter. This is…uh, Slice.”
